


Heathens

by themuse123



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 07:36:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8363407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themuse123/pseuds/themuse123
Summary: You couldn't care for people in this world. She'd be damned if she ever did again. After a dubious attempt at suicide a young woman named Mason joins the group at the prison, resisting her growing affection for them while struggling with demons from  her past.





	1. James Brown

1\. James Brown

It was a measly cache, and she knew it had probably been stupid to risk stealing it, but it was going on four days since she'd eaten anything aside from a handful of oak leaves. She was getting sick of cold beans but it was better than chewing on trees.

There was only one other can, a can of green beans, and even though she hated those green little bastards she still had to resist opening them. With the way things were going she might not eat until next spring.

 _Do you really want to see next spring?_ she wondered, and it was a question that needed answering but for now at least she had something in her stomach, and honestly she just couldn't bring herself to give much of a shit either way.

With her hunger temporarily sated, she stashed the green beans in her pack and headed north, back to the little house where she'd originally seen that group.

From what she could tell they were made up mostly of feral-looking men, and she'd seen enough of those to figure she couldn't just ask nicely for some beans. So she'd stolen the cans, and she didn't feel bad about that, and fuck them all to Jupiter if they thought she should.

As she approached the house, the tension in her chest eased a little. She couldn't see the group or their cars, and judging by their tire tracks they must have left in a hurry. With one hand on the fire poker strapped to her back, she crept closer.

There were several walkers but she dispatched them quickly. She wasn't surprised that the house was all but picked over, but she did manage to snag a shovel and two spools of jewelry wire. Content with her treasures, she returned to the clearing.

She set to work immediately, digging trenches in a wide arc around the tree where she'd eaten lunch. The beans had lent her a fresh wave of energy, but she was still not quite able to dig them as deep as she wanted to. When she had finished she tied the jewelry wire between the trees, covering the spaces where she'd given up trying to dig. Then she took out the solar battery.

She'd scored it from the house of a family who had clearly had enough money to enjoy life but not enough to survive it. She killed them before they ate her, in their pristine kitchen, with their pristine butcher's knife, and afterwards threw up in their pristine kitchen sink. They were the very first walkers in a long line of walkers that she'd killed.

There were loads of things she'd taken from that house, but she'd lost nearly all of it when the car was run off the road, the same week Gina-

_Stop._

Hastily she closed her eyes against the memory, like that would somehow block it out, and leaned against her tree with the solar battery under one arm. From her pack she retrieved the mini speakers and the iPod that she couldn't bear to leave behind in the evacuation and plugged them into the battery.

Music started playing through the speakers, still loud from the last time. She relaxed with her hands behind her head and waited.

It didn't take long for the walkers to show up. She didn't move when they did. From the corner of her eye she saw one stumble into the trench and another rip its throat wide open on a wire. Her lips twitched into a grin.

When the bodies began piling high in the trenches she pulled out her fire poker and stabbed the closest ones through the head. There were more of them than she'd been expecting but that was a good thing. Let fate make the call if it really wanted to.

A hand clamped down on her shoe. Her heart hammered in her chest but still she didn't move. The walker snarled up at her, dragging itself closer, fingers locked around her foot with frightening strength.

She swallowed and stared into its fish-pale eyes, refusing to move, refusing to be afraid. Its teeth gnashed, some of them jiggling loosely in its rotted gums. Closer…closer…

Something ran through its head, spraying her with sludge that had once been blood. She gasped in shock and sat ramrod straight against the tree as the walker fell still.

It was an arrow, looking cheerful and out of place with its bright yellow plastic feathers. She blinked at it a second longer and then looked up, where a man with a machete was cutting his way through her growling guests.

She recognized him from the group she'd seen earlier, along with the mean-looking motherfucker who stepped forward to retrieve his arrow and load it back into his crossbow. He glared at her as he did and her fingers tightened over the fire poker. But she didn't recognize the Asian kid or the man with the thick white beard who reminded her of her grandfather. The sight of him sent a strange pang through her stomach.

The Asian kid grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet.

"What the hell are you doing?" he said.

She yanked her hand from his. "I had it covered."

"Didn't look like it," the bowman said, driving the yellow arrow through another walker's eye.

She bridled at his tone but before she could respond one of the walkers in the trench grabbed her ankle. She stumbled to her knees and the fire poker disappeared in the foliage.

" _Fuck_."

She kicked out strongly but couldn't seem to land a proper blow. The walker's teeth snapped just inches from her leg.

Machete Man brought his weapon down on its head, cleaving it in half. The bowman unplugged her speakers and the forest fell silent.

For a moment, she stared up at them, particularly Machete Man. There was something in his eyes, something remote, that made her think twice about which one was the real mean motherfucker of the group.

Finally Machete Man spoke. "What were you doing?" His voice was soft, but there was nothing friendly about it.

"Nothing that concerns anyone but me and them," she replied, indicating the unmoving dead. She was surprised her voice sounded so even, considering her heart felt like it was trying to beat its way out of her chest.

"Hey."

She looked up as the bowman spoke, but quickly realized he wasn't addressing her. His eyes were on Machete Man, dark with meaning, and he was holding something up.

The bean can. She swallowed hard.

Machete Man turned to her. His head tilted just a bit. "Did you steal from us?"

Quickly she weighed her options. If she told them the truth, they would likely kill her. If she didn't, they might kill her anyway. She tried to figure out why she was suddenly so afraid when she'd been prepared to let that walker eat her.

Because they might not kill her immediately. The thought made her stomach roll sickly.

She glared up at him, hoping as she opened her mouth to speak that she wouldn't throw up instead.

"Yes."

_What the fuck are you doing?_

His head tilted further, a predator observing its prey. His hand tightened around the handle of the machete, knuckles white under the blood splatters.

"Rick," a new voice spoke up. She looked up to see the man with the white beard, brows pulled together in concern. "Look at her. She's starving."

"Yeah, so are we," the bowman snapped.

When Rick didn't respond, White Beard stepped forward and took him aside. She waited in tense silence while they whispered together, trying her best to ignore the bowman's glare.

It seemed to take forever, but it must have only been a few moments. When the two of them finally turned around, she shrunk back from Rick's dark expression and tried to plan out a way to rid him of his machete.

He pointed at her. "You're coming with us," he said.

Her muscles tensed. The bowman looked up sharply. "What?"

Rick glanced at him. "She's coming with us."

The suspicion sharpened on the bowman's face but he didn't argue. Instead he pulled her up roughly by her arm and kept a tight grip on her while they started back in the direction of the house. They paused only long enough so that the Asian kid could find her fire poker and Rick could gather the rest of her belongings in her pack.

She kept her mouth shut while they walked, though she longed to scream. Or at the very least tell them to go to hell. Her mind raced, scheming out ways to return the fire poker to her hands and break free of theirs. But every plan ended with serious injuries and she didn't like her odds. Perhaps if she could get her hand on something at the house…

But they passed by it completely. She only saw a faint glimpse of its pale blue siding before they disappeared deeper into the trees.

She gritted her teeth.

_Fuckfuckfuck._

She didn't care if they killed her, but she'd seen how the new world changed people, brought out their inner shadows. Wherever they were taking her it couldn't end well. Her only hope was that White Beard would plead a case on her behalf. He looked gentle enough. Surely he wouldn't want her harmed?

These thoughts vanished when they emerged on the edge of a small road and came in sight of the group, gathered around their cars.

They weren't just made up of feral men after all. There was the brawny black guy she'd seen before, and the kid with the sheriff hat, but there was also a young woman with short brown hair, a pretty blonde girl with the same eyes, a woman with short, mousy gray hair. And in the middle of them all, a brown haired, heavily pregnant woman.

She stopped dead. Her stomach twisted with guilt.

"C'mon," Bowman grunted, tugging on her arm till she stumbled forward.

"I…I didn't know," she stammered, looking from White Beard to Asian Kid and finally to Rick. "I wouldn't have taken anything if I'd known…"

Bowman snorted.

She glared at him. "I wouldn't."

The crossbow twitched toward her and she clamped her mouth shut. The rest of the group watched all of this with dull interest.

Rick stared at her until she started fidgeting. She thought about reiterating how sorry she was but the words stuck in her throat.

"Rick," Asian Kid said. "She didn't know."

"It doesn't change the fact that she stole from us," Rick replied.

"Rick, we talked about this," White Beard said.

"Yes, we did."

Rick pointed his machete at her and it took all of her strength not to flinch. "You're going to pay us back," he said.

She glanced doubtfully at her pack. "I don't have much."

"That's why you're going to find it first."

She looked around at the machete and the crossbow, the knife strapped to the pretty blonde's belt, the gun tucked in the boy's jeans. She looked at the pregnant woman's weary face.

She nodded. "I won't take anything that I find," she said.

"No, you won't," Rick said. The pregnant woman glanced at him but he ignored her.

She was a little surprised that no one objected to this decision, or even asked who she was.

Like they give a shit about the name of the person who stole from a pregnant lady.

The mousy woman stood up and laid a hand on Pregnant Woman's shoulder. "What do you say we wash these clothes?"

"Sure."

The mousy woman and the pretty blonde helped Pregnant Woman to her feet. The brawny guy looked at Rick.

"I'll head down with them. We need more water anyway."

As the rest of the group, including Asian Kid and White Beard, headed into the woods, Bowman said, "While the rest of them wash their panties, let's hunt. That owl ain't sitting right."

"Right." Rick looked at her. "You come with us."

She nodded, wondering as Asian Kid disappeared when she would get her pack back.

Bowman kept one eye on her as they walked, which irritated her to no end. But who was she to piss off a redneck with a crossbow?

When they came to a narrow train track they followed it, and she was the first one to see the prison through the trees.

"Hey," she whispered and pointed.

All of them stopped, observing the intact walls, the lookout, the fences… and the walkers in blue jumpsuits roaming the wide yard.

"That's a shame," Bowman said.

But Rick was silent, and she was surprised to see the first real glint of life behind his eyes.

"Let's get back to the others," he finally said.

Bowman looked curiously from Rick to the walkers in the yard, but nodded all the same.

As they headed back, setting a quicker pace than before, Rick looked at her.

"What's your name?" he asked.

Hiding her surprise, she said, "Mason."

Bowman didn't offer up his name, and she didn't ask.

They found the group at a wide stream. The group looked up in surprise.

"What's up?" the brawny guy said.

"We might have found a place to stay," Rick said, "but we'll have to fight for it."

Mousy Woman frowned. "Fight?"

"Yard's full of walkers," Bowman said. "But if we clear it, it might make a good place."

"I don't know if we should be bargaining 'might' against a yard full of walkers," Asian kid said.

"Where is this place?" Mousy Woman asked.

"We'll show you," Rick said.

Pretty Blonde and the brunette Mason thought might be her sister hoisted Pregnant Woman to her feet. Mason hovered awkwardly, wondering if she should help.

She fell in next to Pretty Blonde as the group set off from the stream. The other women stuck close and Brawny Guy took the rear. She began to feel trapped.

"So what is this place exactly?" Pretty Blonde asked quietly. "It didn't sound like a normal house."

Mason blinked in surprise. "Oh, uh, it's not," she murmured. "It's a prison."

Pretty Blonde's eyes widened. They were so blue. "A prison?"

"Yeah." Mason laughed half-heartedly. "Guess it's a fitting place for me, huh?"

It was a bit tasteless, and she knew it when she said it, but Pretty Blonde just smiled slightly and shook her head.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Mason."

"My name's Beth."

Mason smiled and Beth's blue, blue eyes twinkled back at her, and even after everything that had happened it suddenly felt a little easier to breathe.


	2. The Bat's Mouth

  1. The Bat's Mouth



 

The fire crackled low, the only light in the darkness. Mason watched the group from afar, leaning against the inner fence with her knees pulled up to her chest. In the distance, Rick and Pregnant Woman- _Lori,_ she reminded herself- were talking. She hadn't had the nerve to ask anyone but she assumed Rick and Lori were together, despite the obvious tension.

 

After the yard was cleared, Rick and Daryl the Bowman took her out to finish their hunt. There wasn't much to find, but she managed to dig up a few cans of tuna from an abandoned car and Daryl caught a possum on the way back.

 

As promised she didn't eat anything, though her stomach ached like it was full of broken glass. The others split the food among themselves and the lift in everyone's mood was palpable, but she couldn't bring herself to join them.

 

She couldn't sleep but she knew she should. Tomorrow was going to need all of her strength. But though she closed her eyes she couldn't get comfortable, and her nerves continued to buzz with nervous energy, and so with a sigh she went to see the Asian kid, Glenn.

 

"Could I have my iPod?" she asked.

 

"Yeah, sure."

 

Mason caught a flicker of sympathy in his eyes and she looked away.

 

As she was heading back to her spot by the fence she saw Beth looking at her, and she wished briefly that she could join her by the fire. But Daryl had not lost his unfriendly glare, and Carol, the mousy woman, kept casting her wary glances, and besides, she was going to leave as soon as Rick decided her debt had been paid.

 

When she opened her eyes to the sunrise her iPod was still playing. She quickly turned it off. She didn't know when Rick would let her have her pack back and the solar battery would need time to charge anyway.

 

She reluctantly gave her iPod back to Glenn when he awoke and waited on the outskirts while the others stirred.

 

Rick appeared at her side. "We're clearing the prison today. I want you to come with us."

 

She raised an eyebrow. "Me?"

 

"You know how to kill walkers," he said.

 

"And you don't trust me."

 

He was silent for a moment and she wondered if maybe her dumbfuck mouth had cashed in her chips once and for all. Then he smiled wryly.

 

"Well we only have so many beans."

 

Against her will she smiled, too.

 

Glenn gave back her fire poker, and she was still breathing a sigh of relief at its comforting weight when Beth came up to her.

 

Silently she held out her hand and Mason blinked in surprise.

 

"It's not much," Beth said. "But you need your strength."

 

Mason took the possum meat. "Thank you."

 

Beth nodded once before turning and hurrying away.

 

Mason ate her breakfast quickly and then gathered with the expedition group- Glenn and Maggie, T-Dog and Daryl. Rick stood at the head.

 

"Stay in a tight formation. I don't want any stragglers," he said.

 

Hershel stepped up to the gate leading separating the field from the prison. "Ready?" he said.

 

Rick nodded. The whole group tensed into a tighter circle as Hershel slide the gate open.

 

The walkers met them immediately and T-Dog took the first one down. Mason followed Daryl and Maggie, bringing up the rear. As Daryl faced off with one walker another shambled up to take advantage of his distraction. Mason swung her fire poker and the metal cut easily through its mushy skull. He gave her a brief nod before pulling her back into the circle by the sleeve of her shirt.

 

They moved steadily through the cement yard, ignoring the cries of the group beyond the fence in an attempt to distract the walkers. The circle only wavered briefly when T-Dog grabbed up a riot shield and Maggie broke rank to dispatch a walker snarling up at them from the ground.

 

Mason's heart raced with adrenaline and the strange satisfaction of having five other hearts racing with hers. It had been a long time since she'd felt like a real part of anything.

 

 _But you're_ not _a part of anything,_ she reminded herself. A pang ran through her at the thought, but she hardened herself against it. _You can't allow yourself to be._

 

Rick pulled to a stop at a metal door and motioned for the rest of them to stay hidden. Around the corner Mason could hear the telltale groans of the walkers, and from Rick's reaction there must have been more than he thought they could handle.

 

Her sweaty fingers tightened around the fire poker. Her stomach twisted with anticipation.

 

Suddenly two walkers appeared from around the Dumpster, clad in riot gear. Daryl aimed his crossbow and crept forward, but two more rounded the corner only a few feet from Rick.

 

The arrow flew and bounced off the closest walker's face guard. Rick leapt forward but his machete bounced off, too, and the walkers closed in, snapping at his face.

 

Mason broke from her place in line, swinging her fire poker. Thick brown blood exploded as it sank deep into the walker's neck and stuck there. The walker limped closer, fingers grabbing for her face, her neck. Leaning back, she planted her foot against its chest guard and kicked it away. The fire poker pulled loose and she stumbled back.

 

More walkers appeared from around the corner, roused by the noise and the scent of warm flesh. The group leapt into the fray, battling in vain against the ones in riot gear. Mason found herself back to back with Daryl, facing off with two mean walkers dressed as guards. One of them grabbed her arm before she snapped the bone and rammed the fire poker through its skull.

 

Rick called for Daryl and Mason drew back to help Glenn, T-Dog and Maggie, who were all wrestling to pull off a monstrous walker's helmet off. Mason flitted in just as Glenn wrenched the helmet back, exposing its face, and skewered it with her fire poker.

 

Whipping around, she was startled to see that there were no walkers left. She relaxed her grip on the poker. Her fingers were slimy with blood.

 

Glenn and Maggie exchanged a hopeful glance and Mason felt buoyed by their expressions. They started heading back toward the fence where the rest of the group waited, but Rick called them back.

 

"Stop."

 

Glenn hovered uncertainly. "It looks secure."

 

"Not from the look of that courtyard over there." Daryl pointed around the corner where the walkers had gathered against the gate. "And that's a civilian."

 

Mason blinked at the body lying near their feet, at her normal clothes and delicate features. Very obviously someone who did not belong here. Her excitement dwindled.

 

"So the interior could be overrun by walkers from outside the prison," T-Dog said.

 

"Well if there's wall's down, what are we gonna do? We can't rebuild this whole place," Glenn said.

 

Mason glanced toward the fence. Her eyes landed on Beth, staring anxiously through the chain link.

 

"We can't risk a blind spot," Rick said. "We have to push in."

 

Everyone drooped reluctantly but no one hesitated when he lead them up a set of caged stairs and into the prison.

 

The commons area where they ended up looked grim and uninviting, and it reeked of piss and rotting garbage, and still Mason looked around in wonder. When was the last time she'd lived somewhere with four walls and a roof? Eight months ago? A year?

 

Rick retrieved the keys from the guard tower and let them into the cell block. They spread out to examine each cell; Mason followed Rick and Daryl upstairs to check the second level, but the only walkers they encountered were locked in and easily taken care of.

 

When he was assured that all the walkers were dead, Rick said, "Let's head back to the group. We'll bring them inside and go from there."

 

There was a faint gleam of life in his eyes that hadn't been there before. Everyone seemed energized by it. They hurried out of the prison, and when they came in sight of the others Mason found Beth and smiled hugely.

 

They met each other as Rick slid the gate open.

 

"How is it?" Beth asked.

 

"Well, it's dark and it smells like shit," Mason said. "But I think if you put a few flowers in the windows it'll spruce it right up."

 

"Is it safe?"

 

Mason blanched at the word. _Safe._ In her mind she saw that night, only a few months ago, that night when every face she saw was covered in blood and every sound she heard was a scream and there was nothing, nothing, _nothing_ she could do about any of it.

 

She clenched her jaw and swallowed around the lump in her throat. Beth was still waiting, watching her with growing concern.

 

"As safe as it can be," she said.

 

***

 

They retrieved their belongings from the cars and brought them inside. Mason stood back while the others picked out their cells, and cleaned the guts off her fire poker with a tattered sheet. Now that they had fought past the immediate threat, exhaustion weighed down her eyelids. Her limbs felt as heavy as lead. Slowly she leaned her back against the wall and sank to the floor.

 

Just as she was drifting off, a hand shook her lightly awake. She startled, grabbing for her fire poker.

 

"Whoa, easy."

 

Beth's face swam into focus. Mason blushed and mumbled, "Sorry."

 

"It's okay. You know, there's an empty bunk in my cell. And that floor doesn't look too comfortable."

 

"Oh. Thanks, but-"

 

"No but's. You need to sleep."

 

"I can sleep here."

 

Beth was silent for a moment, her lips set in a determined line. Then she nodded.

 

"Fine. Then I'll sleep here, too."

 

"No, you-"

 

Beth sat next to her before she could finish, smiling brightly. Her eyes were wide and innocent and so goddamn blue, and Mason felt her will crumble.

 

"Oh, stop giving me that look, you…angelic charlatan."

 

_Angelic charlatan? What the fuck is this, a Jane Austen novel?_

Beth laughed. "Come on."

 

She slipped her fingers through Mason's and pulled her to her feet. Her skin was surprisingly soft even after life on the road, but there was something rough along her wrist…

 

"Top or bottom?"

 

Mason looked up sharply. "What?"

 

"Which bunk do you want?"

 

"Oh." Her cheeks flushed with heat. "Bottom's fine."

 

Beth smiled, and Mason couldn't tell exactly what twinkled in her eyes but she thought it might be amusement. She waited until Beth climbed into her bunk to settle into her own, and though it was small it was much more comfortable than anything she could remember sleeping in in months. She closed her eyes.

 

When she opened them again, the cell was dark. She shook her head, disoriented, and realized that she must have slept without nightmares for the first time since…

 

She flinched away from the thought. Memory served no purpose, except to hollow you out. But of course she knew she wouldn't be able to sleep so, restless and frustrated, she crept out of bed and into the cell block.

 

Everything was silent, without the forest whispers she had grown used to on the run. It made the back of her neck prickle. The woods only fell silent under death's shadow.

 

 _We cleared this place,_ she thought. _Everything's okay._

 

And she knew it was true. Rick had locked them into this cell block only after they had double-checked that there was no unexpected company.

 

But everything was so different, and it had all changed so suddenly. Three months without any human interaction, three months of nightmares, three months weighing the benefits of life against the benefits of death- and now here she was, pledging this indefinite part of her life to strangers. It made everything feel uncertain, rocky terrain on a moonless night.

 

She tiptoed past Rick slumped against the wall and climbed the stairs to the perch. Daryl was curled up there with one hand on his crossbow. Mason smirked as she snuck past him to the window.

 

Her uncertainty eased when she saw the world outside, contoured by the light of the moon. Even the bodies in the yard were beautiful. She wished that it were possible to be outside and enjoy the night, like she had in another life. She longed for a private world that belonged only to her and her music and the silver blush of midnight…

 

"What are you doing?"

 

The voice came quietly but she still jumped. When she turned she caught a glint of moonlight in Daryl's eyes and it reminded her of the time she got lost in the woods and crossed paths with a mountain lion.

 

"I couldn't sleep," she said. "Sorry I woke you."

 

He shook his head. "I'm keeping watch."

 

"But we're locked in here."

 

"And you think that makes us safe?"

 

He watched her with eyes that knew too much, eyes that observed everything, and she knew he saw the truth in hers.

 

"No," she said.

 

They lapsed into silence. His eyes never left her face. The awkwardness made her skin prickle warmly.

 

"Well," she said when she could stand it no longer, "guess I'll just scoot on out of here."

 

He stepped back to let her edge past him, but as her foot touched the stairs she heard his voice again.

 

"What were you doing out there in the woods?"

 

She stopped. She didn't look at him in case she couldn't keep her expression together, but the pain was in her voice, too, and she was sure he heard it.

 

"Just hollering to some old demons."


	3. Heavenly Father

  1. Heavenly Father

"Go back, _go back_!"

The group, scrunched up at yet another corner of the prison's labyrinthine corridors, hastily backed up. Mason was in the lead with Rick and Daryl, and just past them she could see the cluster of walkers that had caught their scent.

"Shit," she hissed and raised her fire poker just as Glenn pulled her back by the sleeve.

"Come on, we have to go!" he said.

They took off running, stumbling over dead bodies and running into each other in the dark. Mason wished, as she rammed into T-Dog's broad figure for the third time, that there'd been enough flashlights to go around.

The snarls of the walkers hounded them onward as they followed the spray-painted arrows back the way they'd come. Faster than all of them, Mason took the lead and very nearly ran into a second group of walkers as she turned a corner.

" _Shit_!"

Teeth snapped just inches from her nose. Fetid breath burned her nostrils, making her gag. She stumbled backward just as Daryl grabbed her arm and yanked her away.

The group turned down a third hallway. It led them deeper into the prison, away from the exit, but there was no other choice. The walkers were closing in from both sides.

After what felt like an eternity in the dark, Rick pulled them all to a halt against the wall.

"Where are Glenn and Maggie?" he said, and for the first time she realized that the two were not with them. Fear splintered in her chest.

"We have to go back for them," Hershel said.

Rick nodded and all of them tensed, waiting for their opportunity. When the sound of the walkers faded Mason and T-Dog leaned out into the hall, weapons ready, and motioned for the others to follow.

They kept their voices low, calling out Glenn's and Maggie's names at regular intervals in the dark. Rick and Daryl took the lead and Hershel fell back, checking every shadow. Mason's heart pounded at the look on his face.

"Maggie?" she hissed. "Glenn?"

There was nothing but silence, aside from the whispers of the others.

And then she heard the scream.

She turned around so fast her ankle nearly gave out beneath her. Rick and Daryl shot past her. When she caught her balance she followed with T-Dog on her heels.

Hershel was the first thing she saw, writhing on the ground with a walker attached to his leg. Her stomach dropped to the floor. She rushed futilely for him but Rick beat her to it, cleaving the walker's head in two, and then there was Glenn, and Maggie wailing for her father, and suddenly everything was too hot, too close. It was hard to breathe.

" _NO! DADDY!_ "

Maggie shook violently as Glenn and Rick swept Hershel to his feet. They tried to carry him back in the direction they had come from, but the walkers, alerted to the noise, shambled around the corner, hasty with hunger.

"Go back, go back, move!" Rick said and the group rushed deeper into the prison.

Daryl and Mason fell back behind the others, weapons aimed at the walkers who kept up a frighteningly even pace. They must have been half-starved. Their teeth clacked relentlessly, hands swiping whenever they got too close. Mason took a few of them down but it did no good, and before she knew it they were coming to a dead end.

"The door, get the door!"

T-Dog reached for her fire poker and she handed it over without question. One of the walkers swiped at her hair and she kicked his legs out from under him. In the background there was the loud clang of metal, and then the doors ahead were swept open. Daryl and Mason pressed after them, only closing the doors once everyone else was inside.

Mason barely registered that they had made it to the cafeteria. Her heart was thudding so fast it felt like her blood was flying in her veins. T-Dog slid her fire poker through the door handles, and though the walkers pressed in earnest they could not find a way to break them open. Still, T-Dog stood close to the doors and tossed Mason his gun in exchange for her unavailable weapon.

Assured that they were at least relatively safe, Mason hovered closer to where the others crouched on the floor around Hershel. Now that they were stopped she could smell the blood, and her lungs clenched tighter in her chest. She breathed through her mouth instead.

Everyone tensed with new purpose when Rick fumbled for his belt. Realization dawned quick and clear for Mason, too, and her knees shook.

_Ohshitohfuckohshit._

Maggie held her father closer to her as Rick tied the belt around his leg. The blade of his hatchet gleamed ominously in the thin, dusty light.

"There's only one way to keep him alive," Rick said, as though to convince himself, just before bringing the hatchet down on Hershel's leg.

Mason's stomach rolled. Hershel's screams trailed off as the blood gushed from his severed arteries.

"He's bleeding out," Rick said, like he couldn't quite believe what he had done. Mason swayed on her feet, looking anywhere but at the blood spreading toward her feet.

Before anyone could respond, Daryl trained his eyes on something beyond Rick.

"Duck."

Rick crouched down and Daryl stood up, aiming his crossbow at the barrier that cut through the cafeteria. Five figures stood there. Five men with skin that had not rotted and teeth that did not gnash and eyes that were not dead.

"Holy shit," one of them breathed.

Mason aimed her gun without thinking about it, stepping forward to flank Daryl. T-Dog left his post at the door and stood on her left.

"Who the hell are you?" Daryl said.

"Who the hell are _you_?" one of them- a short guy, Hispanic- replied.

Behind them, Rick and the others were paying them no attention.

"He's bleeding out, we have to go," Rick said.

"Come on outta there," Daryl said. "Slow and steady."

He and Mason edged closer to the barred door, where the Hispanic man crept out. His eyes flicked back and forth between them and Hershel.

"What happened to him?"

"He got bit," Daryl growled.

"Bit?"

The man's hand twitched toward the gun tucked in his belt. Mason stepped closer, aiming her gun between his eyes.

"Don't even fucking think about it," she said.

In a flash his gun was out, pointed at her face.

"Whoa, whoa, easy now." Daryl flanked her, so close his arm brushed hers. "Nobody needs to get hurt."

But nobody lowered their weapons.

Suddenly Glenn rushed past them, muttering something about medical supplies. Mason tensed as the Hispanic man followed him with his gun.

"Who the hell are you people?" he said.

A short man with a moustache fidgeted behind him. "Sure as hell don't look like no rescue team."

"We're not," Mason said. She stepped out of the way as Glenn brushed past, pushing a rolling metal table in front of him.

Then Rick was shouting, "We gotta go!" and T-Dog rushed back to open the door. The strangers flinched away, horrified.

"Don't open that!"

"We got this," T replied, and the snarl of a walker cut off with a thud.

Risking a look back, Mason caught a glimpse of Hershel's pale face as they carted him away. Her stomach twisted, heavy and hot.

"Daryl! Mason!" Rick called.

They backed away quickly, keeping their weapons trained on the strangers, and even when the doors swung shut they didn't relax. Flank to flank, they followed the group through the tunnels, unwavering, except when Mason tripped over the arm of a dead walker. Daryl caught her before she could fall, fingers strong and rough around her arm.

Finally, _finally,_ the door to the cell block came into view, but Mason felt no relief at the sight. Her chest felt too tight, like it was squeezing her lungs. Sweat ran down her face, stinging her eyes.

When they reached the common area, Carl unlocked the cell block door and everyone rushed through except her and Daryl. They stood side by side, eyes on the tunnel door, waiting. Shouts came from the cell block. Mason thought she heard Beth's voice, high with fright, and pain ran through her, iron hot.

The Hispanic man came through the door, stealing her attention. The others trailed in after him.

"That's far enough," Mason growled. The others stopped, but the Hispanic man continued to inch forward.

"Cell block C," he said. "That's my cell block. Let me in."

"Today's your lucky day fellas," Daryl said. "You've been pardoned by the state of Georgia. You're free to go."

"What you got going on in there?"

"That's none of your concern."

The man raised his gun. "The hell it's not."

"Tomas, c'mon," another man- a brick wall of a man- said. "We're free now, why don't we just go?"

"Man's got a point," Daryl said.

"Bunch of civilians breaking into a prison they got no business being in?" Tomas shrugged. "Got me thinking there's no place for us _to_ go."

Mason tensed, her finger poised over the trigger. "Why don't you go find out?"

The mustached man glanced nervously from her to Tomas. "Maybe we should be going…"

"We ain't leaving."

"Like hell you aren't," Mason said.

"This is my house, my rules, and we _ain't leaving_."

"It's our house now, asshole."

"What did you say to me?" Tomas twitched his gun in her direction, eyes gleaming. "You better watch your mouth, you little bitch."

Daryl tensed. "Hey, maybe you listen to her. She knows better about this world than you do."

"This is _my_ world, you people don't belong here."

"We do now."

" _What did I say, bitch_?" Tomas stalked forward until his gun was just a foot away from her forehead. She didn't flinch.

Silent as a shadow, Daryl was there with his crossbow, standing between them. Mason glared over his shoulder; she didn't look away from Tomas and he didn't look away from her.

"Back up," Daryl said. "Or I make this decision for you."

Suddenly there came the sound of the cell door opening and Rick and T-Dog rushed over.

"Hey, hey, everyone back off. There's no need for this."

Tomas glanced at Rick but Mason never broke her stare.

"How many of you are in there?"

"Too many for you to handle," Rick said.

Tomas didn't seem to care about the threat in his voice. His gun stayed frozen on Mason's face and Daryl never moved.

"That guy you chopped up," Tomas said. "Why don't you take him to a hospital?"

Mason stifled a snort. T-Dog and Rick exchanged a glance.

"How long have you been locked in that cafeteria?" Rick said.

Tomas paused. His eyes flicked around suspiciously. "I don't know, like ten months."

"Riot broke out," the mammoth man said. "Never seen anything like it."

One of the little ones, a black man, spoke up. "Heard about dudes going cannibal…dying, coming back to life… Crazy shit."

"One guard looked out for us," Tomas said. "Locked us up in the cafeteria. Told us he'd be right back and gave me this piece."

"That was two hundred and ninety-two days ago," another man- not quite as huge as the mammoth, but huge enough- said. "We keep waiting for the Army or the National Guard to show up any day now."

"There is no Army," Rick said. "There's no government, no hospitals, no police. It's all gone."

The mustached man's eyes bulged. "For real?"

"Serious."

"What about my old lady?" Not-Quite-as-Mammoth Man said. "Hey, you got a cell phone or something so we can call our families?"

"You just don't get it, do you?" Daryl snapped.

"No phones, no computers," Rick said. "As far as we can see at least half the population's been wiped out."

As the news sunk in, eliciting various degrees of shock, Tomas finally lowered his gun. Without looking behind him, Daryl nudged Mason back little by little until she stood between Rick and T-Dog.

After a crackling silence, Tomas shook his head. "Ain't no way," he sneered.

"See for yourself," Rick said.

So they led the prisoners out of the cell block, down into the yard where yesterday they had faced down the walkers. The bodies were still there, evidence to reality. While the prisoners milled uncertainly through the carnage, Mason fell back to exchange weapons with T.

"So what is this, a disease?" Mammoth Man said.

"Yeah. And we're all infected."

With the comforting weight of her fire poker back in her hands, Rick's words had less impact. She already knew this, of course. She'd seen it in action. But the memories welled up in her brain and she felt stronger, better prepared to banish them, with her own weapon.

"What do you mean infected?" Moustache asked. "Like AIDS or something?"

Mason smirked and shook her head. "If I were to jab this through your heart, you'd come back as one of them. It'll happen to all of us someday."

Tomas and the short black man exchanged a glance, and then Tomas looked at Rick.

"Where'd you come from?"

"Atlanta."

Tomas nodded and sauntered closer.

"Where you headed?"

Mason tightened her grip on the poker.

Rick met Tomas's gaze. "For now, nowhere. We took out these walkers, this prison's ours."

"Slow down, cowboy," Tomas scoffed.

"You smashed the locks off _our_ doors," Short Man said.

"We'll give you new locks, if that's how you want it," Rick said.

"This is _our_ prison," Tomas said. "We were here first."

"Locked in a broom closet?" Mason said.

"We took this prison, set you free, it's _ours_ ," Rick said.

"We're moving back into our cell block," Tomas replied.

"You'll have to get your own."

"It _is_ mine. I still got personal artifacts in there, that's about as _mine_ as it gets!"

Tomas pulled out his gun. Mason, Daryl and T-Dog all closed ranks around Rick, weapons ready.

"Whoa, whoa, maybe let's try to make this work out so everybody wins!" Moustache said, stepping between the two groups.

"I don't see that happening," Tomas said.

"Neither do I," Rick said.

Moustache blinked at Tomas. "There _are_ other cell blocks."

"Or you can leave," Daryl said. "Try your luck out on the road."

For a moment, everyone was silent. Mason's heart beat sure and slow, confident now that she felt worlds away from Hershel and the others. This was something she was familiar with. This was something she could fight.

Finally Tomas shrugged. "If these pussies can do all this, the least we can do is take out another cell block. As long as Mister Cowboy, here, lends us some real weapons."

Rick hesitated. "How stocked is that cafeteria?"

"There's only a little left," Tomas said. Mason didn't trust the cold calculation in his eyes.

Neither did Rick. "Then we'll take half," he said. "In exchange, we'll help clear out a cell block."

"Didn't you hear him?" Short Man said. "There's only a little left."

"Bet you got more food than you got choices," Rick replied. "We clear out a block for you, you keep to it."

"Alright," Tomas said.

"But let's be clear." Rick stepped forward, until he was nose to nose with Tomas. "If we see you out here anywhere near our people, if I so much as catch a whiff of your scent, I will kill you."

Tomas didn't back down. There was something in his expression that Mason didn't like.

"Deal."

~m~

Mason went along to help carry back food from the pantry. She could barely keep her mouth from watering as she followed T-Dog back through the tunnels to their cell block, carrying two whole boxes of canned food. It was more food than she could remember seeing in almost a year.

Carl met them at the door, his eyes lighting up at the sight of their cache. "Whatcha got?" he asked.

"Canned beef, canned corn, canned _cans_ ," T answered. "There's a lot more where this came from."

Rick, bringing up the rear, stopped by Hershel's cell, where Lori, Carol and Glenn were gathered. Mason stared straight ahead, following Carl to the cell on the end.

"We'll get this organized, see exactly what we got so we can ration it," she said.

Carl nodded, more excited than she'd ever seen him. "Okay!"

She sat with him for a while, stacking cans and joking about the meals they could make with them.

"How about a…green bean burger?" Carl held the can of green beans up like a torch.

Mason wrinkled her nose. "Oh Christ, I just can't get away from those little green fuckers."

Carl laughed. "Or maybe we could make green bean pudding."

"Hey, kid, don't you get me started on desserts, okay? I would _kill_ someone for a piece of cheesecake right now."

It was Carl's turn to wrinkle his nose. Mason gaped at him.

"You don't like cheesecake?"

"I've never had it," Carl admitted. "But cheese and cake just don't belong together."

"You know, there are people who put cheese on apple pie-"

"Ew, _gross_!"

"Mason?"

Mason looked up to see Rick watching her with the strangest expression on his face. She couldn't place it but it made her blush.

"I'll be back, puddin'," she said to Carl and followed Rick to the cell block door.

She waited for him to speak but he was quiet. After a moment he held something out to her, and she realized for the first time that he held her pack.

Hesitantly, she took it. Only then did Rick speak.

"I want you to stay here when we clear out the other cell block."

She frowned. "Rick, you can't trust them-"

"Which is exactly why I want you here. I need someone to stay behind to protect the group. If there are others lurking about I need to know someone's keeping my people safe."

"And you think that someone should be me? Isn't Glenn staying behind?"

"Glenn needs to stay with Maggie. He needs to be there when…" He trailed off, and Mason pretended she didn't know what he was going to say. Then he smiled slightly. "You've already kept them safe. But Carl…Beth…they need you here."

Mason swallowed hard. Her stomach fluttered nervously. "Rick…"

He laid a hand on her shoulder before she could find the words.

"I trust you," he said.

She couldn't decide if she was flattered or terrified. Still she looked him right in the eyes and said, "I'll protect them." Knowing full well what she was promising.

Knowing full well she had promised it before.

He nodded and headed out into the commons area, where Daryl and T-Dog waited. She watched them for a moment, wishing she could go, too.

"Mason?"

The delicate, bell voice sent a shard through her stomach, sharper than ever because even after two days it was already so familiar.

She turned warily to face Beth.

"Can you help me with somethin'?" Her face was clear and calm, but Mason suspected it took a lot of effort to keep it that way.

"Sure."

Beth led her to their cell, where a cluster of pants were piled on the floor. Mason raised an eyebrow.

"They're my dad's," Beth said. "I was hopin' you could help me adjust them. It's gonna be kinda hard for him to walk with one side draggin' on the ground."

Her face was still calm, but her eyes seared through Mason's. She wasn't stupid. But she wasn't a quitter, either. Mason smiled gently.

"Well, we'd better get to work, then."

They worked in silence for a while, ripping the right leg off each pair of pants and setting the torn fabric aside.

"Glenn said they found you in the woods, playin' music."

Mason paused. "Yes."

She knew what was coming next and she wasn't sure how to answer, or if she even wanted to. When Daryl had asked her last night it was all she could do not to break down.

_You can't even_ think _about it, how the hell do you expect to tell anyone about it?_

Rigid with stress, she waited for Beth to speak.

"What kind of music?"

Mason looked up. Beth appeared as innocent as always, focused on tearing the last ragged strip from a pair of khakis. Her eyes flickered up only briefly, and Mason saw in them nothing but gentle curiosity.

Slowly she smiled. "Cage the Elephant. Ever heard of 'em?"

Beth shook her head.

"I don't really know how to describe them… Redneck alternative, I guess."

"So you're a redneck?"

"Well, I listen to other stuff, too. I'm only forty-five percent redneck. Hmm, let me guess… _you_ listen to Slayer?"

Beth giggled. "No."

"Megadeth?"

"No."

"Slipknot?"

"Nope."

"Really? You look pretty metal to me."

"More like a choir girl."

Mason swallowed hard and looked away from her disarmingly soft face. Thankfully Beth didn't seem to notice.

"I used to sing a lot when I was little," she said. "Folk songs and church songs, anything I heard my family singin'. Used to play piano, too. We had an old upright and my daddy would listen to me no matter how many times he heard the same song…"

She trailed off. Her fingers stilled over the fabric. Ignoring all of her better instincts, Mason laid a hand on Beth's.

"You'll get to sing for him again."

She regretted the words immediately, because when Beth looked at her there was hope in her eyes.

_You asshole,_ she thought. _Stop promising ridiculous things._

But she _wanted_ it to be a promise. She wanted it to be a promise she could keep. She wanted the hope in Beth's eyes to be rewarded.

"Maggie says we can't count on him wakin' up," Beth said. "But I can't stop hopin'. Daddy deserves better than that."

Tears trailed down her cheeks. Before Mason could stick her foot any further in her mouth, Beth trapped her in a fierce hug.

It took Mason a moment to realize that she should move her arms, hug her back. By the time she did, Beth had already pulled away. But there was a smile on her face and a gleam in her eyes that did strange things to Mason's heart.

"Um," she said. "I should probably check on Carl."

"Okay. I'll go check on Daddy."

Mason nodded absently and scurried away before anyone else could hug her.

Her mind was in such a whirl that at first she didn't register that Carl was gone. All she could picture was Beth's smile, her eyes, the quiet touch of her hand…

Then her heart stopped.

There the food sat, abandoned and unorganized, exactly how it had been before Rick pulled her aside. Carl was nowhere to be seen. Rick's words echoed mockingly in her ears.

_I trust you._

_I trust you._

"Fuck me."

Panic made her head dizzy but she tried to think clearly. She hadn't seen Carl pass by her and Beth's cell. She hadn't heard the sound of the cell door creaking open, which she'd been listening for. So he hadn't gone into the tombs.

At least, not the ones they'd cleared.

Her eyes flickered to the other barred door, the one leading to tunnels they hadn't yet explored.

"Fuck me," she said again and grabbed her fire iron.

~m~

These tunnels were just as dark as the ones before. She wished she'd thought to grab a flashlight but she was pretty sure Rick's group had taken them all, anyway.

"Carl?" she whispered. Part of her strained to hear him in the claustrophobic cavern. The other part remained hyper vigilant for the sound of walkers.

Suddenly from a few yards ahead came a muffled growl. Mason raised her fire iron in a baseball stance and quickened her pace. The growl came again, followed by a wet shuffling sound.

"Carl?"

A new growl joined the first, overlapping one another. Mason started to run. From the sound of it, a corner was just ahead…

"Carl!"

Just as she turned the corner, something popped. Mason gasped, recognizing the telltale sound of a silencer.

A light flashed in her face, blinding her. Something growled. Something else hit the floor.

"Mason?"

Blinking against the glare, Mason's eyes landed on Carl a few feet away, with a walker at his feet and another limping toward him.

"Bloody fucking hell."

She strode toward them. Before Carl or the walker could react, she was there, and the poker swung sure and clean through the walker's head.

There was a brief moment of silence, in which Mason checked to make sure there were no more unwelcome visitors. Then she turned a black glare on Carl.

"You're a little fucker, you know that?"

Carl glared back. "I'm just trying to help," he said.

" _Oh_. Okay, yeah, I see it now. You're trying to help the _walkers_. That's sweet of you, kid, but you're really no more than a mouthful."

"I could've taken them on my own. You didn't have to come looking for me."

"Look, it's your own business if you want to get chomped by some flesh-eater, but you do realize that your mom is pregnant, right? Like, ultra pregnant? And that your dad has a magnificently full plate as it is?"

Carl rolled his eyes. "That's why I got this."

He held out a black gym bag and unzipped it. Mason's eyes widened. The bag was filled to the brim with gauze and alcohol swabs and hydrogen peroxide. Carl's scowl twitched into a smirk.

"Raided the infirmary," he said. "Hershel needs it, and Dad's busy with those prisoners so I got it myself."

Mason nodded, trying to think of something else to say, something else to yell about. But as reckless as he might have been, she couldn't deny the kid was right.

She groaned. "Your mom's going to fucking kill me…"

"No, she won't," Carl said. "This was the right thing to do."

"Uh huh."

"C'mon, we need to get back."

"Okay, but…seriously. You owe me bigtime. Like, the very last cheesecake on Earth is _mine_ kind of bigtime, I don't care if you have to fight a pack of ninjas to get it."

Carl grinned. "Deal."

When they got back to the cell block there was still no sign of Rick and the others. Mason sighed inwardly and tried to think of something else, but what else was there to think of but Hershel, and the fact that Lori was likely going to punch her in the throat for letting Carl run off?

Everyone eyed them curiously as they leaned into Hershel's cell. Glenn frowned.

"I thought you two were organizing the food."

"We got something better," Carl said and handed Carol the bag.

She opened it and gasped. "Oh my god."

"Where did you get this?" Lori demanded.

"From the infirmary."

"You went by yourself?"

"Well, Mason followed me but it wasn't a big deal. We took down two walkers."

Mason fidgeted as Lori's eyes flicked to her.

"Do you see this?" she finally said, motioning to Hershel. "This was with the whole group."

"We needed supplies, so I got them," Carl said.

"And I appreciate that, but-"

"Then get off my back!"

"Carl!" Beth said. "She's your mother, you can't talk to her like that."

Carl fell silent, glaring at the floor. Lori reached for him.

"Look, I think it's great that you want to hel-"

Before she could finish, Carl stormed off. Lori drew back, blinking the hurt from her eyes. Then she looked at Mason.

"What the hell were you thinking?" she hissed. "He's a boy. He shouldn't be traipsing around in the dark, looking for walkers."

"You're right, Lori, I'm sor-"

"Don't you dare say you're sorry. I don't want to hear it."

"Lori…" Glenn started, but Mason shook her head.

"No, she's right. I'll, um…just step out."

Awkwardly she backed out of the cell.

Carl was sitting by the food with a sullen expression. She considered joining him but she couldn't think of anything to say, so she leaned against the wall and tried not to think at all.

"Mason?"

Reluctantly she opened her eyes. Carol stood before her, her eyes uncertain but her lips pressed into a determined line.

"Come outside with me," she said. "I need your help with something."

Mason frowned and glanced at Carl. "I should probably stay here…"

"Glenn will keep an eye on things. This won't take long."

"Um. Okay."

She got to her feet and followed Carol outside. When they got to the inner gate, Mason raised an eyebrow.

"So what's up?"

Carol sighed. "I need a walker."

Mason was silent for a moment.

"Well…" she finally said, "…there's plenty of them…"

"I need a female," Carol continued.

"What… _Why_?"

"Lori's overdue. She had Carl by C-section and she's probably gonna have to have this one the same way." She sighed again. "Hershel had a little bit of experience with this kind of thing, but he's not gonna be able to do it anymore."

Mason narrowed her eyes. "He's not dead yet."

"But we need to be prepared for the worst."

"So…you need this walker for practice."

"I need experience."

Carol waited while Mason processed this in silence. The thought itself was stomach-churning, but Mason couldn't help admire her for thinking of it in the first place. It was something Gina would have done…

She smiled darkly. "Well. We have plenty of cadavers."

"My thoughts exactly."

Then Carol smiled, too, a real _Good Housekeeping_ kind of smile, and Mason almost laughed. She was starting to like this woman.

A cluster of walkers had gathered along the outer fence. She studied Carol's face as they walked past each of them, so she saw the slight tightening of her eyes before she stopped and pointed.

"That one."

The walker looked like she had been young when she died. Early twenties, no older than Mason herself. Her yellow dress was dull and splattered with stains. She could have been one of Gina's college buddies…

She shook the thought away. "Okay," she said, and raised the poker.

Carol touched her arm. "No. I'll do it. You distract them so I can get the body."

"Whatever you want, boss."

Mason jogged back the way they had come, trailing the fire iron across the fence while Carol took care of her walker. The others followed her, faces pressed to the chain link in grotesque snarls. When they were far enough away, Mason dispatched them one by one.

By the time she returned, Carol had dragged the body through the hole in the fence and was tying up the wires again. Mason hefted the walker into her arms and they made their way back to the yard.

"You shouldn't take it too personal," Carol said. "That thing with Lori. I think she just…has a lot of regrets."

Mason looked at her curiously but she didn't press the issue. A few more steps and then Carol stopped.

"I'll do it here," she said.

Mason laid the body on the ground. Carol pulled a wad of dark leather from her belt and opened it. The sun glinted off the blade of a shiny scalpel.

"Um…" Mason said. "Do you need any help?"

"No, at this point it's just a matter of perfecting the procedure. You go check on Beth."

Mason prickled uncomfortably. Check on Beth? Why just Beth? Beth wasn't her priority. She wasn't babysitting Beth.

Carol laid a hand on her arm, jolting her from her thoughts. "Thank you for your help." She smiled again, but this one was sweeter.

"Of course," Mason mumbled. "No problem."

Carol turned back to her cadaver and Mason scurried back inside.

She noticed the change in atmosphere immediately when she entered the cell block, the excited murmuring coming from Hershel's cell. Her heart leapt into her throat and sat there, poised on the edge of hope and fear. She hurried to the cell.

Everyone was gathered inside. Carl had returned, and he gave her a wide smile as she approached.

"Hershel's awake," he said.

Her knees felt watery. "He is?" she breathed, too quiet for anyone to hear. Cautiously she leaned around Glenn for a better look.

Maggie and Beth were crouched at Hershel's bedside, crying and holding each other. Hershel didn't say anything, his face drawn with exhaustion, but he watched them with his gentle, loving eyes and it was enough.

Mason smiled. Her throat felt tight, but a weight was gone from her lungs. She breathed a fuller breath than she had since Hershel's first scream.

"What's going on?"

Everyone turned. Rick stood by the cell door, spattered with blood. Daryl and T-Dog hovered further back. At the sight of all three of them, still fully intact, her lungs shed more weight.

"Hershel woke up," Carl said.

Rick looked at Hershel for the first time. His whole expression changed. The despair vanished, the distance vanished. His eyes looked wider, softer with disbelief.

Slowly he edged past everyone else to kneel next to Hershel, and that look never left his face. For the first time Beth glanced over at Mason, grinning ear to ear, tears glistening on her cheeks.

The smile froze on Mason's face. Her stomach flipped over. Suddenly she was very aware of every body in the room, the heat of their combined heartbeats. Trying to be subtle about it, she backed out of the cell.

_Get a grip,_ she thought as she leaned against the wall. _Get a goddamn fucking grip._

But she couldn't seem to listen to her own advice. And she was pretty sure she was fucked either way.

Because she could feel herself slipping. She could feel the walls she'd put so much time and determination into crumbling. Unconsciously, she had betrayed herself.

You couldn't care for people in this world. That lesson had been driven home, more so than anything else. More than she knew to aim for a walker's head, more than she knew to avoid strange men on the road, more than she knew waking up every morning was both a blessing and a liability, she knew _this._

Caring for people…loving them…

That was the real killer.

_You don't care about these people,_ she told herself. _You just fucking met them._

But it wasn't the whole truth. She was very good at denying things until they met her at the surface.

"Mason."

She jumped, startled to see that Rick had left the cell and was watching her. She wondered what he saw on her face.

"Oh, hey. How'd it go with the prisoners?"

"You were right," he said simply. He didn't sound surprised.

"What happened?" she asked.

"Two of them will live in the cell block next to us."

She didn't ask what had happened to the other three.

"Thank you," Rick said.

"For what?"

"For keeping them safe."

Mason shook her head. "No, I… Carl-"

"Yeah, I know what happened," Rick said. "Lori told me you went after him. Helped him take down two walkers."

"I shouldn't have let him go at all."

"Hey."

Rick laid a hand on her shoulder. He caught her gaze and held it. "You went after him," he said. "You didn't have to do that."

She didn't know what to say, so she kept her mouth shut.

After a long pause, Rick said, "You can stay. If you want to."

This time she didn't try to hide her reaction. She gaped at him, her heart pounding so hard in her chest she was sure it would burst right through.

She had to tell him no. She needed to tell him no.

She hated the part of her that wanted to tell him yes.

When she still hadn't said anything, Rick patted her shoulder. "Think about it," he said. Then he headed for the catwalk, leaving her alone against the wall.





End file.
